


Killing Death

by Tachi_Sakon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Broken Miya Atsumu, Broken Sakusa Kiyoomi, Character Death, Death, Executioner Miya Atsumu, Grim Reaper Hinata Shouyou, Grim Reaper Sakusa Kiyoomi, Grim Reapers, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Metaphors, Miya Osamu Is Dead, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tachi_Sakon/pseuds/Tachi_Sakon
Summary: “There’s no life to live without ‘Samu,” Atsumu whispered.“Then die. It’s not as if an executioner who takes the lives of the townspeople will be mourned.”The executioner wanted to stop the sudden influx of horrible truths. His eyes dilated, heart pounding, legs trembling as he clutched at his head; knees buckling and surroundings suddenly swarming. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take the truth, and he knew it. When Osamu would tell him fondly, “Ya really can’t take an ounce of the truth, huh ‘Tsumu?” it was so. He simply couldn’t. And he wouldn’t.He wouldn’t stand the truth. After all, as an executioner, what was the best way to go out than following those townspeople?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Inunaki Shion/Adriah Thomas, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Konoha Akinori/Sarukui Yamato, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Akiteru/Udai Tenma
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. First Glimpse Of Death (Atsumu)

**Author's Note:**

> ANGST

“You seem down on your luck,” Atsumu sneered.

Sakusa huffed and fingered his scythe, hands slowly running across every smooth yet jagged curve. “Have I ever been up?” He returned hoarsely.

“I don’t think so.” 

“Well then,” 

Atsumu shrugged, twirling a dagger between his fingers with an easy smile dragged across his lips. “You’ve never been this rattled before,” he hummed, “no matter the gory scene you witnessed, Mr. Reaper.” 

Sakusa copied Atsumu’s shrug. “Things change.” 

Atsumu snorted and pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on to stride over to the cloaked figure, heeled boots clicking on the marble floor. Reaching out, he draped an arm across Sakusa’s shoulders and smiled. “They sure do.” 

“Conveying much?” Sakusa retorted with the roll of his eyes.

Atsumu’s smile widened. “Only my glee.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sakusa watching Atsumu kneel over a beheaded body and he strides over, all clad in black and kneels beside Atsumu, placing a hand on his that’s clutching a dagger. 

“You know,” he says softly, “it’s odd.” 

The young executioner remains staring blankly forwards. 

“What’s odd?” He whispers, broken. 

The dark figure lets out a dark chuckle. “The things,” he says, “that you remember when someone dies.” 

Atsumu freezes, shoulders going rigid under the figure’s touch. “What d’ya mean,” he finally manages to choke. 

“That body,” Sakusa says, uncaring the way his words bit away at the executioner’s walls with every tick of the everlasting clock called time, “it was someone important to you, no?” 

Atsumu saw red. He reached out and grabbed the figure by the collar of his dark cloak. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” he hissed raising the dagger in his left hand to Sakusa’s throat, “call my brother an ‘ _it_ ’.” 

Sakusa’s eyes flicker from Atsumu’s rage scribbled face to the dagger at his throat, face neutral. “A corpse is a corpse. No matter who they were when alive, dead, they are merely a corpse.” Sakusa said, voice hoarse. “Nothing but decomposing figures of nothingness. Otherwise known as an it.”

“My brother isn’t an it!” 

“That’s his corpse, isn’t it?” 

Atsumu opened his mouth to deny, but the words wouldn’t form; slipping from his tongue like the blood from a dead cow’s mouth. “I—” he began. One look at the dark figures face, hope left him. “Yes,” he finished, voice so quiet that the crumbling of the old graves could be heard. 

“A corpse, no longer human; no longer anything.” Sakusa sighed. “An unnecessary waste of space that keeps a soul bound.” 

“Y-you’re wrong–“ Atsumu’s voice broke with every letter. “He’ll always be necessary to me. My brother will always—“ 

Sakusa reached up with his gloved hands and gripped Atsumu’s, prying his fingers off his cloak collar. “Denial is the first step in grievance.” He murmured. “Humans are quite pathetic when they grieve, denying what lays out in front of their noses. Foolish.” 

Atsumu wants to fly into a rage, to send the bastard’s head flying, to see the blood spurt from his neck the way his blood boiled in his veins, the pressure becoming nearly unbearable. He glared up Sakusa’s lifeless eyes and found himself suddenly helpless, rendered speechless. 

“Yer awful,” Atsumu breathed as his hands were pulled away and shoved at his sides, “just awful.” 

Sakusa scoffed, “Like I said, foolish.” 

“Ye feel that pain is foolish?” Atsumu returned. 

Sakusa held up a hand and shook his head, dark curls bouncing. “Correction,” he spoke softly, “I don’t feel at all.” 

“Impossible,” the executioner snapped. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Well I think so!” 

Sakusa heaved a sigh. “Well then, let me ask you this.” His eyes blared from beneath his cloak as he locked gazes with Atsumu. “Tell me,” 

Atsumu glared at him, yet kept silent; allowing Sakusa to go on.

The reaper gripped his scythe in his gloved hands, fingers strained against the hollow bone. “What happens when one has ran out of tears to cry?” 

“They,” Atsumu murmured, confused, “cannot cry?” 

Sakusa nodded. “Correct, now,” he sighed, “what happens when one runs out of meanings to convey?” 

“They cannot convey?” 

“Exactly.” The reaper finished, voice brittle. “So, when someone has no feeling to feel any longer?”

Atsumu swallowed the lump in his throat, stained with not just the blood of those he had executed, but with the darkness of his surroundings. 

“They cannot feel,” he finally breathed. 

Sakusa nodded. “ _Correct_.” 

“There’s still nothing wrong with feeling for a loved one!” 

“It’s not as of your feelings will bring them back.” Sakusa hissed silencing Atsumu. “Face your reality, your new reality without your brother. Face it and move on, live your life.” 

“There’s no life to live without ‘Samu,” Atsumu whispered. 

“Then die. It’s not as if an executioner who takes the lives of the townspeople will be mourned.”

The executioner wanted to stop the sudden influx of horrible truths. His eyes dilated, heart pounding, legs trembling as he clutched at his head; knees buckling and surroundings suddenly swarming. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take the truth, and he knew it. When Osamu would tell him fondly, “ _ Ya really can’t take an ounce of the truth, huh ‘Tsumu _ _?_ ” it was so. He simply couldn’t. And he wouldn’t. 

Sakusa watched an arched eyebrow as the executioner had what seemed to be a mini breakdown at his feet, clutching at his robes. Resisting the urge to snatch the hems out of Atsumu’s clutches, he simply stood still and watched; not offering even the tiniest bit of comfort. He had none to offer anyway. What was he to say? It made no difference to him, all deaths were the same in the end? The same old corpse, the same red blood spilled as it seeps into the ground? He’d seen too many deaths to care any longer? He got himself into this? This is reality after all. The grim reminder of the endless loops in the universe called life and death and beyond. 

Every dead body is like the other that is why he didn’t worry with identification? Background didn’t matter at this point, it’s all the same; they lived their life, died all too young, becoming a heap of dirt after decades underground, amounting to those millions of others. 

“It’s all the same,” Sakusa said quietly, “no matter how many times you see it.” 

Atsumu slowly raised his head, eyes glossy as he gaped at Sakusa. “What,” his jaw hung slack with the raspy question echoing.

Sakusa rolled his dark orbs, “It’s all the same, the afterlife; the corpses, no matter how many times you’ve seen it. It’s always the same white light and the same regrets about their previous life.” 

“I don’t care.” Atsumu croaked. “I don’t care, I don’t care, _I don’t_ _ care!”  _

“For someone who doesn’t care, you have a funny way of showing it.” 

“Shut up,” Atsumu panted, chest heaving as he picked himself up from the ground; gripping his dagger, “shut up, _shut_ _up or I’ll kill you!_ ”  With a wail of despair, he charged at Sakusa, sudden tears; hot and wild, streaming down his hallowed cheeks, waving his dagger, cloak flying and boots stomping furiously. “ _I’ll fucking kill you!”_

“No,” 

Atsumu couldn’t tell what happend next as the world around him changed, warped and hazed; loudness erupting all around him, banging against his eardrums. 

“You won’t.” 

“Give me one good reason why!” Atsumu yelled. At this point, he didn’t know who he was yelling at anymore; he was too blinded by the warping and his anger to care. “One fucking reason before I slit your throat and display your head on a pike for all of Japan to see!” 

He was met with silence. 

“Don’t ignore me!” 

“You can’t kill me,” the monotone voice said from the abyss rolling around him. 

Atsumu watched as the darkness swirling at his side, forming a figure. His eyes widened in panic as a pair of dull eyes, the epitome of emptiness, stared into his soul and Sakus appeared before him, scythe drawn to full height; its skeletal figure crooked and hideous as the ribs stuck out like dead twigs, the shining blade curved and it’s tip nearly making contact with his left eye. 

“You can’t kill me,” Sakusa hissed, scythe slowly pushing closer to Atsumu’s iris, “if I am Death himself.”


	2. Into Insanity (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feisty mom Shion and calm dad Adriah scolding stupid child Sakusa

“I dare say that I took your advice.” 

“It wasn’t advice, it was the truth.” 

The executioner let out a laugh as he rolled the pedal, sharpening his blade. “You told me to go kill myself, Omi.” He pointed out. “And that’s what I did.” He turned his attention back to his axe, face clouded over. “And like you said, no one cared.” He muttered darkly. “After all, no one cared about me besides ‘Samu, and he’s gone.” 

Sakusa swallowed thickly. “He might not be as far as you think.” He whispered. 

“Whaddya mean?” Atsumu glanced up, eyes going wide. 

“The dead don’t travel very far. Didn’t I tell you?” Sakusa slowly ran an elegant finger across the curved edge of his scythe. “It’s all the same; the same story, the same light and darkness, and the same paths they take.” 

“Is there a chance that—” Atsumu didn’t need to finish his question; Sakusa understood enough. 

“Who knows, there are always chances for something; for the living or the dead, there is no difference. A chance is a chance, and they are always taken even when one isn’t fully conscious.” 

Atsumu made a small noise through his nose and continued sharpening his blade even though there was nothing left to sharpen. He just wanted to give himself an occupation so that Sakusa wouldn’t be able to sense the relief in him. 

“That scythe looks a bit dull there,” the executioner hummed holding out one hand to the reaper, “why don’t I sharpen it for ya?” 

Sakusa narrowed his eyes at Atsumu; his grip on his scythe tightening. “No,” he said softly, “this is my treasure. No one touches it but me, _ever_.” 

“Okay, okay. If you ever change your mind, the offer still stands.” 

“I doubt that.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I can’t believe that you went and said that to him,” a gentle yet firm voice scolded. “How can you tell someone that no one would mourn them? You don’t even know the guy.” 

Sakusa crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t act like you actually care, Inunaki-San; it makes me sick.” 

Inunaki pursed his lips and shared a side glance with the person beside him before his eyes flickered back to Sakusa. “Well, believe it or not, I actually very much care because if he kills himself by slitting his gut, hanging himself from a wooden beam or something of the like, it’s going to end up our responsibility; and that’s the last thing I need.” He raised a hand and ran his fingers through his light tresses with a sigh. “I already have to babysit idiot amateurs like yourself, and now I’ll have to greet another.” Inunaki exchanged another quick look with Adriah before adding, “That is  if they decide to go through with death, after all.”

“Idiot amateur?” Sakusa echoed, slightly offended as he eyed the shorter male. 

Inunaki frowned. “Is that all that penetrated that thick skull of yours, Kiyoomi?” 

“I am not an idiot for stating the truth.” Sakusa bit his lower lip, sucking on the small puncture wound he’d made, his mouth filling with a metallic taste. “ _He_ is the idiot for living in an illusion made from his delusional mind.” 

“Sending someone to his death, isn’t your job!” Inunaki was beside himself. He could no longer contain his irritation with the other reaper. “Your job is to collect the soul of the already dead being and guide them down lake Suzaku! Nothing more, nothing less!” 

Adriah immediately placed a hand on Inunaki’s shoulder, holding him back from lunging at Sakusa. “Shion, I think that you’ve laid it down a bit too hard, let’s ca—” he began, but Inunaki held up a hand to silence him. 

“No,” Inunaki hissed, “he needs to know the consequences for his actions!” 

“I think that it’s time to calm down now,” Adriah repeated softly wrapping an arm around Inunaki’s waist; pulling him against his chest. “I’m sure that Kiyoomi understands,” he sent a quick glance Sakusa’s way, conveying all that he needed, “and will reap what he sowed.”

Sakusa swallowed back the urge to gag, letting out a groan. “You two are so sickeningly married that I’m disgusted by how domestic you are.” 

Adriah chuckled and Inunaki sent Sakusa his dirtiest glare. 

“Thank you,” Adriah inclined his head towards Sakusa in a mock bow, making the cloaked reaper roll his eyes for what seemed to the the hundredth time in the past few minutes.

Inunaki clicked his tongue. “Shut up.” Immediately stiffening as the taller male made to mean over, he stuck out his hands and stopped him in his tracks. “Tomas, stop it.” 

Adriah sighed, “Okay, okay.”

Sakusa gestured at the two before folding his hands in his lap. “See? Exactly what I mean.” He grumbled fiddling with his sleeves. “ _Disgusting_.” 

Inunaki turned away from Adriah to growl, “Fuck you,” at Sakusa before a smirk slowly formed it self on his face, thin lips curving ever so slightly; his eyes narrowed with contained glee. With the swift movement of his arm, he reached up and grabbed Adriah’s collar, yanking him down. “I’ll show you disgusting,” he murmured tilting his chin up to meet Adria’s lips as he pressed them together. 

Sakusa visibly shrunk back, a grimace sprawled over his face as he watched with distaste as Inunaki kissed Adriah in front of him. Shielding his eyes from the awful affection, he grumbled, “I never asked for this.” 

“You did,” Inunaki’s voice came out slightly breathless, “when you kept being a stupid asshole.” 

Adriah chortled as he and Inunaki pulled away from each other; the light haired male standing with his arms crossed and a smug smirk on his reddening lips, and the taller male sporting a gentle smile, slightly sympathetic. “Maybe you’ll end up like this with that poor soul; all disgusting.” 

Something is Sakusa ticked, his jaw tightening uncomfortably. “I’d rather die.” He snapped. 

Inunaki snapped back, “That can be aranged.” 

Adriah replaced his large hand on Inunaki’s shoulder. “Shion,” he sighed. 

Heaving a sigh of his own, the light haired reaper rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He huffed. Turning to Sakusa once again, eyes serious, he said; “We’re getting new cruisers.” 

Sakusa nodded, their previous tension gone; replaced by the heaviness of their work. 

“From the slaughterhouse on the old hill, huh.” 

Adriah nodded and Inunaki continued steadily: “Apparently one of the executioners went on a rampage killing more than the caged sows.” 

Sakusa’s scythe was at the ready. “How many souls?” He asked, uninterested. 

Inunaki and Adriah answered him together. “The whole house.” 

“That’s quite a big order.” 

“All the more reason to get on it.” 

“Will I get back up?” 

“I’ll ask Hinata to join you later. He’s guiding a woman and her daughter at the moment.” 

“Ah.” The curly haired reaper understood. Hinata was a gentle soul, and he didn’t take kindly to unnecessary deaths nor did he handle the deaths of the young and their parents well. Getting no back up right away was to be expected with how that reaper’s heart was wired.   
  
  


“Yeah,” Inunaki hummed.   
  
  


Adriah nodded as of agreeing with whatever nonverbal else that his partner was showing. “The poor boy.”   
  
  


“Yeah, yeah, now let’s get on with the slaughters.” Sakusa nodded. “Now then,” He hated how hoarse his voice was, rasping and hollow, “killer identification?” 

His eyebrows rose as Inunaki’s lips trembled and his eyes became downcast. Adriah’s hand move to his lower back, rubbing in comforting motions. 

“Killer identification,” Sakusa repeated coldly. It wasn’t like a reaper to suddenly become so down over a question such as ‘killer identification’. 

Adriah looked from Inunaki to Sakusa. “I think you may know him already.” 

“What?” He didn’t understand his seniors. “I obviously don’t if I’m asking.” 

Adriah sighed and reached for a scroll in the pocket of his robes. Pulling it up and flicking his wrists to unroll it, he read its contents to Sakusa. “Date, 1815. Location: The Ayuzawa Slaughterhouse; time of rampage: 12:36 at night and,” he trailed off. 

Sakusa quirked an eyebrow. “And?” He prompted.

Adriah continued. “The murderer was identified as Miya Atsumu, an executioner who worked at the house in the dungeons closest to the manager of the machinery; also the man who was disposed of first.” 

_ Miya Atsumu, the man who he had seen breaking down over the dead body. The man who he had asked him all those questions, who had challenged him, who had openly expressed his hatred.  _

_ Miya Atsumu, the man who lost his brother too early and healed too late.  _

_ Miya Atsumu, who was just a boy through and through who had to become a man too quickly.  _

_ Miya Atsumu who added a new stage to the five stages of grief: _

_ Insanity. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter prev: 
> 
> Atsumu smiled up at Sakusa, face completely stained with red; every ounce of blood from each and every corpse that lay drained on the floors, littering the ground like grotesque mannequins, disfigured and mutilated like the executioner’s soul. “Hey,” 
> 
> Sakusa merely bit back a retch, face paling rapidly as he stared at the scenery before him, Atsumu’s greeting remaining unanswered. 
> 
> The executioner shrugged and bent over again, reaching out and yanking his axe out of the body at his feet, the last few trickles of blood spilling before making their stop, pooling at his feet. 
> 
> “Why,” Sakusa broke the silence, “why did you do this.” 
> 
> Atsumu shook his head with a laugh. “I just wanted t’feel human one last time,” he sighed. 
> 
> “What?” 
> 
> “I want to feel human again.” Atsumu whispered. Taking one last breath, staring Sakusa in the eyes, he swung his arm and a loud slashing echo filled the air. 
> 
> Sakusa stared on in horror as the executioner fell to the ground with a dull thud, the blood draining from his face as he paled like the corpse beside him. Without thinking, the rushed over to Atsumu’s side. “Miya!” 
> 
> “After all,” Atsumu heaved, axe protruding from his chest, blade slicing to his waist, “what’s more human than death?”


End file.
